


Keeper of the Garden

by pherryt



Series: Supernatural CODA Collection [15]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Canon, Caretakers Sam and Cas (but mostly Cas), Confessions, Crazy!Dean, Gardening Dean, Hope, Hopeful Ending, Hurt!Cas, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Michael!Dean, Perceived MCD but not really, Recovering Dean, Saving Dean, Season 13 Finale Coda, broken!dean, possessed!dean, until next season starts anyway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-24
Updated: 2018-07-24
Packaged: 2019-06-15 12:02:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15412491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pherryt/pseuds/pherryt
Summary: Michael backed out of their deal and now Dean's stuck, trapped in his own mind with a crazy Archangel who keeps showing him Cas's death over and over again, keeps makingDeankill Cas over and over again... till he really does and Dean snaps...Finally free of Michael but not of his own sins, Dean is slow to recover from the possession, and is convinced Cas is dead at his own hands.  Dean has done a lot of things, both good and bad, but there's nothing that will ever make up for that.





	Keeper of the Garden

**Author's Note:**

> I was driving with my kid and a song came up on my playlist that I hadn't heard in a while and it inspired me to write this. (Wait, that scenario sounds familiar! *looks at Lammas Night*)
> 
> This isn't a blow by blow of the song, but it definitely has a few elements come into play. I'll put the lyrics at the end.
> 
> Additional warning at end (Kinda spoilery)

Dean burned and he burned and he _burned_ but there were no flames licking at him. His wounds were not physical, but he burned with the energy of an Archangel inside of him.

He knew… he knew _damn well_ what Archangel Grace could do to a man. Had he not seen it? Lucifer’s first vessel, Nick with its bloody lesions and, more recently, all the multitude of people he’d taken and burned out in less than a day. Sam’s mind being torn into pieces after Lucifer had vindictively had his way with Sam’s soul. Raphael’s vessel turning into a drooling mess…

And yet, Dean had hope.

Because _Michael_ had also taken his father, once, and that had turned out… well, not the way Dean and Sam had intended it, that’s for sure, but John hadn’t seemed worse for wear afterwards.

Had it been the brief touch? Had Michael gone out of his way to not burn out his vessel? Was it something to do with the fact that even the demons had thought John Winchester was the Righteous Man meant to be broken in Hell?

But John hadn’t broken, _Dean_ had. Dean had failed, though John had been in Hell getting tortured far longer than Dean had.

Even Castiel, in a vessel meant to carry an angel, one that had even been upgraded by God, had not fared all that well in Lucifer’s hands.

But Dean had _hoped_ that with Michael things would be different.

Then again, he hadn’t exactly intended for Michael to be sticking around.

 _You broke our deal!_ Dean shouted into his own mind. It was the oddest sensation. Even as a demon, as a Knight of Hell, it had still been _him_ inside of himself. Occupancy one, not two.

 _I obeyed the letter of our deal, Dean,_ Michael gloated, a chuckle bouncing around Dean’s head oddly. _I did everything you asked. I gave you the power to defeat Lucifer, my brother, on your terms. Once Lucifer was gone, you gave up that power. You gave it back to me. You said it yourself, this was a one time deal. You failed to specify what that meant._

Michael smirked and Dean burned and raged.

He fought, because that’s what Dean did. He didn’t always fight for himself, even Dean had to admit that he never put up enough of a fight when it was just him on the line, but his family was out there. And if Michael had his way with this world as he had done in the last, then Dean’s family – Sam, Cas, Jack, Mary, Jody, Claire, Donna and so many others – _they_ were in danger and that, Dean would not let stand.

Not if he could help it.

He was not going to sit idly by and let Michael burn the world the way Dean seemed to be burning now. He was going to make it as difficult as he could on Michael. Maybe he could annoy the Archangel the way Cas had annoyed a Cosmic Being.

It might be a little too much to hope, but if Cas could come back to life, then Dean had to try.

His will was, perhaps, insignificant compared to that of an Archangel, but Dean exerted it at every turn, utilizing it in ways that years of trained instincts – both as a hunter and a conman – had honed for him.

The right nudge here, the perfect whispered doubt there. It didn’t stop Michael, but it derailed him, slowed him down. Michael wasn’t even quite aware of it, too busy subjugating the part of Dean that Dean put out there.

But even Michael couldn’t fully subjugate him or put him under. Not the same way that Lucifer apparently had done to Castiel, if Crowley was to be believed. Maybe it was something about the fact that Dean was only the perfect vessel for _this_ worlds Michael, not Apocalypse World’s Michael, where even the rules of Angel Grace seemed to be different.

It meant that Michael and Dean fit like an ill sized glove, scratchy and uncomfortable. A little too tight here, a little too loose there, and overall too bulky to do things that required a fine touch. Dean would use anything to his advantage.

So would Michael.

Day after day, until Dean lost track of them, he’d try to trap Dean in a world in his own mind. Michael tried utopia’s at first. Starting from the top with the apple pie life, the supernatural gone from their lives. Sammy married to Eileen with a baby on the way, Castiel living with Dean and learning to play the guitar together.

But Dean had seen right through it, because he knew – he _knew_ \- in his heart that it couldn’t be true. It was a life forever denied to them as hunters, and though Michael had tried to remove that knowledge, Dean could _feel_ it. It was a lot like the fake djinn dream he’d had so long ago. Too good to be true, with all the little bits and pieces under the surface that proved it as not.

So then the Archangel had changed the dream, to something a little more realistic. Sam and Dean were still hunting, still based at the bunker, but the world was no longer in danger of ending. Hunts getting further and further between as a new generation of hunters were trained up, with Castiel and Jack and Mary by their sides.

That one had almost done him in. That one had almost gotten to him, and Dean’s little nudges had wavered. But Cas staying at the bunker? Cas never leaving, never going off on his own on one of his little crusades?

Yeah, still too good to be true.

Cas would _never_ want to stay at the bunker, to stay with Dean. Dean knew it all too well. Why else would he always be running away?

 _If that’s the way you want it, then fine,_ Michael spit out _. Just remember, Dean. I_ **_tried_ ** _to make it pleasant for you. I_ **_tried_ ** _to make this less of an ordeal. I don’t inflict needless pain. I put people, I’m putting_ **_humanity_ ** _, out of their misery. Listen to them suffering! Don’t you want it to end?_

 _Don’t you want_ **_this_ ** _to end?_ Michael whispered, coating his words in fake sympathy.

Michael wrapped Dean in a nightmare, fueled by so many of the ones he’d had over the years. Sam and Cas featured in literally all of them. Nightmares where Dean had failed to protect them – the times where he actually watched his failures happen, and the ones he feared would happen but hadn’t. Michael made them all real and made Dean relive every one of them again…

And again…

And again…

Dean raged at Michael and burned faster and faster.

He couldn’t take much more of this.

How many times could he watch Cas die?

 _All of them,_ Michael whispered, as he focused on Cas, on the love that Dean couldn’t deny any more _. You’ll even be the cause of Castiel’s death. Your own hand will strike him down again and again and you’ll have to watch the light leave his eyes, see the betrayal on his face. This is what humans are. You’ve been broken before. You’ll break again. If a demon can break you, than so can I._

And god help him, but Dean did. He watched Cas die. He killed Cas with his own two hands. He shoved him into Purgatory. He doused him with holy oil. He threw him into the cage with Lucifer. He abandoned him in the Apocalypse World. He sacrificed him just like his double had in that messed up future that had never come to pass. He assisted Naomi in her torture and the brainwashing with that weird contraption that looked like a demented halo.

He did all of it, watching his actions, watching his hands move and screaming for it to stop.

How could he make it stop?

And each and every time, Cas begged with him.

“Please, Dean,” Cas pleaded, his blue eyes shining up at Dean from the ground. “I love you. Don’t do this.”

“Dean, I know you’re in there! You can fight this! Fight Michael!”

“Dean… I love you… I will always love you,” Cas whispered as the light left him.

And every time, wings burned across Dean’s retinas, broken ones – and weren’t those his fault too? -  but there all the same. Or scarred across his chest, while Cas’s blood pooled on the ground, covering his hands. Dean shook.

 _No, no, no, no,_ Dean chanted over and over again. _No, make it stop!_

 _Will you stop fighting me?_ Michael asked.

 _Never!_ Dean growled.

_Then you’ll continue to see all the ways you can make him die. All the ways you will destroy your true love._

_He’s not my –_ Dean started to say, though he knew how useless it was to try and hide anything from Michael. The Archangel had invaded every corner of his mind. The world's he constructed proved that.

 _Don’t_ **_lie_ ** _to me Dean. You can’t,_ Michael crowed _. I’m in here. I’m in your small, fragile, human head. I see all the things you hide from yourself, from your loved ones. I know what you so desperately want but won’t allow yourself to have. You could have had it too. I’ve seen your memories, your dreams. I’ve seen Castiel through your eyes. You’ve thrown him away and he always comes back. He fell, he’s degraded himself for you. He’s no angel, not anymore. He’s learned how to be human and you’ve destroyed him._

 _No!_ **_You_ ** _destroyed him!_ Dean shouted desperately. Cas had told him nothing of the encounter, only that his other self was dead, but the haunted look in his eyes had driven Dean to find out what had happened. Charlie and Ketch had not been able to tell him that but had been able to give him insight to what Cas might have had to face. They’d described the Apocalypse World’s version of Cas, how broken and cruel he’d been.

 _I saved him in my world!_ Dean protested, trying to believe the words he said. _He didn’t become a broken shell with no mind or will of his own._ No, but he was broken, all the same...

 _Angels don’t get minds and wills,_ Michael growled. The sound of it echoed in Dean’s head painfully. _They obey. And any who don’t will be punished. Just as I’m punishing you. Free will is an illusion. How else do you think the Apocalypse always happens? Your choices only delayed it for a while, but it always happens. In my world, in this world, and the next, and the next. I’m going to wipe them all out, start with a fresh slate across_ **_all_ ** _the worlds._

 _And you’re helping me,_ Michael taunted.

 _No!_ Dean howled.

This time, Michael didn’t answer him, but tossed Dean back into another nightmare. It was a familiar one, with Cas surrounding the Archangel with Holy Fire and pleading with Dean to say no, to cast Michael out and Dean was suddenly filled with an uncontrollable rage.

“If it were that easy, don’t you think I’d have done it already?” Dean shouted, a silver, twisting blade sliding into his hand, the heft of it also familiar, both from the nightmares Michael kept tossing him in, and the brief moment of triumph he had against Lucifer. Back when Dean thought they might have finally won. But no, they never did. Winchesters were cursed, and Winchesters by association were as well.

“Go away, Cas! You’re not real,” Dean screamed. “You’re never real. You’re never here where I need you. You’re a figment created by Michael to taunt me. To show me all the ways I’ve failed you and will always fail you and break you. I’m poison to you, Cas. Why do you think I’ve never made a move? Why I’ve never told you I loved you? I don’t deserve you! Even here, trapped in my own mind, with a fake you and I _still_ know I don’t deserve you…”

Dean could feel himself breaking down, the ever present burning flaring brighter and even more painful than before. He rushed forward, but Cas didn’t even flinch or step back. Because even a figment trusted Dean more than he ever should. Dean lunged, thrusting the blade into Cas –

But instead of the expected flash of light, the flare and flutter of broken wings burning out around him, around Dean, Cas stumbled back, clutching the wound at his stomach.

Dean froze, staring at Cas in shock.

There was no judgement, no look of betrayal, only sadness and love shone in those eyes.

Michael never showed Dean that. He always twisted the knife by showing Cas afraid of him, the love there fading away to show only hurt and fear. Somehow, this hurt worse than all those other nightmares. It hurt worse knowing that, whatever Dean did, Cas didn’t stop loving him.

Had Michael learned a new trick? Or… or was this real?

Dean fell to his knees, the blade in his hand dropping to his side as he watched Cas stagger forward and fall to his own knees before Dean, reaching out with one hand while the other still clutched his stomach, blood seeping out from between his fingers.

He stared down at the blood dripping down, down, down to the floor in horror. A hand, gentle and yet as hot as brand, cupped Dean’s face and pulled him back up to look into Cas’s blue eyes. As soon as their eyes met, his breathing hitched and Dean was trapped there, unable to find the strength to look away.

“It’s okay, Dean. Do what you need to do. Fight Michael. Shove him out. If you say no… even an Archangel has to listen to you. But you _have_ to _say_ it.”

“I’ve _been_ saying it, Cas! I’ve been yelling it till the cows come home!” Dean protested with leaden breaths.

Cas shook his head. “You can’t say it in disbelief or horror. There has to be intent. You have to take back the permission. You can’t just ask him to stop. Because he will never honor that request. It’s _your_ body,” Cas whispered. “Take it back. You’re in control right now. Do it before he can…”

Cas stopped, groaning, his hand slipping from Dean’s face, and his eyes closing hard, his teeth coming out to bite his lip against a whimper and a shuddering breath.

“Cas!” Dean reached for him desperately, taking both shoulders in his hands. “Don’t do this! Don’t die on me, I can’t kill you again…”

“Say it, Dean!” Cas gritted out. “Before it’s too late! Don’t let him win!”

Cas slumped forward, the dead weight of his body crashing Dean to the floor of an old stone church. The fire raged around him – why had Cas been _inside_ the Holy Fire circle with him? Where was his Grace?

Tears flowed from Dean’s eyes and he sobbed, struggling to speak, struggling past his grief, and past Michael’s sudden desperate will to regain control, “Get _out,_ Michael.”

After the first few words, Dean’s voice became stronger and he looked up into the rafters of the church and shouted, lightning crackling around them, “You are no longer welcome here! Your permission to use my body has been revoked, asshat!”

The crackling lightning swirled higher and greater than before, blinding Dean, shocking him painfully as Michael was expelled. He closed his eyes against it, screaming as Michael tore out of there, intent on wreaking as much havoc on his way out in his anger at Dean’s refusal to cooperate.

***%*%*%*%*%*%*%*%***

Coming back to himself was a hard task for Dean.

Everything was disjointed and razor sharp. All of his senses hurt or failed to work in any way. Whether his eyes were opened or closed, he couldn’t tell, because all he saw was a blindingly white light and the afterimages of burnt out wings even though there’d been none when Cas died. Not this time. But he remembered them from the last time and the image invaded his thoughts. Dean flinched at every sound and touch; the prick of the smallest whisper sounding like thunder in his ears, the gentlest touch was sandpaper and salt on already raw wounds.

All he could think of was how he’d been too late.

He’d killed Cas.

_I killed him._

_I killed_ **_Cas._ **

“I killed Cas,” he sobbed. “I killed him, oh my god, he’s gone. It’s my fault…”

There were whispers of sounds around him, louder sounds that could not reach him as he rocked, his head pulled down between his knees, his arms wrapped up over himself.

At least, that’s what he thought he was doing. He was moving, he knew that much. He pulled at his hair, the pain a punishment for what he’d done. But not enough. Nothing would ever be enough to take back what he’d done. What he hadn’t done.

 _I never told Cas how much he meant to me. How much he_ **_really_ ** _meant to me_ , Dean lamented. “Oh god…” he whimpered aloud. “I loved him and I killed him. I loved him and I never told him… he d-deserved to know he was loved… and I never gave him that. I killed him…”

“ -an, Dean, please, y -  have to st- - t’s a- over, everything is -i-e. Eve -ing is o-. Cas is -t dead, - prom-s - you,” a voice tried to break in, but he couldn’t recognize it and the words weren’t making any sense to Dean.

“Dead, dead, dead,” Dean whispered. “He’s dead. My fault.”

“-am, M-chael – burnt h-m out -ll – take -ime,” another voice spoke up, one that tantalized Dean’s mind with familiarity.

“How ca- -ou sta- to see hi- like -is?”

“He’ll co- -ack to u-,” the other voice assured. Assured? There was hope there, but that didn’t make sense. What was there left to hope for?

Something touched him and Dean flinched away. A hand pulled at his shoulder – _No, no, no! That’s Cas’s shoulder! Stop! Stop!_ “STOP!”

The hand quickly pulled away and Dean curled up tight, breathing hard.

***%*%*%*%*%*%*%*%***

“Shit! Where’d he go?”

Dean ignored the shout. The words made more sense now, sometimes. He could hear them, at least, but sometimes they seemed put together and sometimes they just echoed down a hall strangely.

Some days he stared at a wall, and other days shapes moved around him, but they wouldn’t resolve into anything solid. It hurt to watch them, so he didn’t.

Today, something pulled him away, restless and urgent. He walked through the halls with a hand trailing the wall but couldn’t remember where he was or where he was going. He tripped on the stairs he didn’t see but his hand guided him up and over into a bright room. He winced at the brightness of it, the fakeness of the light, the hum it made in his ears and stumbled through the room, the wall no longer an option to guide him. Dean tripped more than once when his eyes refused to compensate, to show him what was there before him, but he made it to the railing and pulled himself up.

There was more shouting behind him, sounding as if a long way off, or maybe under water. Dean continued to ignore it. He reached the door and struggled to shove it open. Steps behind him made him struggle harder, gasping and panting to push it open – _have to get out! Have to atone for my wrongs! Trapped! I’m trapped! Got to get out! Can’t stay here – Can’t stay_ – “Can’t stay – out! Need… need to find…” he gasped

“It’s okay. I’ve got the door,” a voice said softly. The door gave way, pulling towards Dean instead of away and he rushed through as soon as he could fit in the opening, squeezing and scraping himself between the door and the doorway in his urgency, lunging outside into cool breeze and warm sun. It was too much and not enough but it was real air and real light, not recycled and fake.

Dean closed his eyes against it and breathed, trying to calm himself.

Little by little, he relaxed just enough to open his eyes again, though sound became a wind tunnel around him, too loud and echoing. He latched on to a color and turned following it up the hill, struggling to climb the steep slope.

***%*%*%*%*%*%*%*%***

“Don’t worry about him, Sam. I’ll be with him, like I always am,” the gravelly voice that seemed to accompany him the most was speaking to the other voice that hovered around him almost as much as the first. They’d learned not to touch him, and for that Dean was grateful. The words still didn’t always make sense, but the voices, worried as they sounded, soothed him. Especially the deep one.

Others grated on him, caused him to dig at his ears. Wrong pitch, wrong tones, wrong, wrong, _wrong!_

“Is he ever going to get better?”

“He’s already better. Have you seen the garden?”

The garden, yes. That’s where Dean was going. Cas liked bees and bees liked gardens. He was making the garden for Cas, making a bee sanctuary. Gravelly voice helped him and praised him and advised him.

Working in the garden with Gravelly Voice was actually soothing and the only time he felt… almost at peace, though he could never be at peace for what he’d done. He whistled to the plants as he worked, songs he couldn’t remember but he knew meant something.

“Zeppelin’s Ramble On,” Gravelly Voice would murmur. Or perhaps, “Hey Jude, by the Beatles.” It was aggravating to know that the words _meant_ something, just as the songs did, but he couldn’t remember what _that_ was _either_. So he pushed it away and continued to whistle, which sometimes faded to a hum before rising into sung words he didn’t hear and couldn’t have told you what they were but sang anyway.

Dean wasn’t sure how, but he could feel the proud smile on Gravelly Voice. It made his heart leap and he wondered why.

The garden was a riot of colors and it eased something in Dean every time he saw it. “Needs more blue,” he whispered.

“Okay, I’ll find us some more blue flowers,” Gravelly Voice promised him.

“Did the bees come?” Dean asked. “He likes bees. Bees like flowers. Did we plant enough flowers? I want to make him happy. He gave me honey from the bees once.” Dean frowned sadly. “I don’t know if I thanked him.” He sniffled and wiped at his nose with his sleeve - too scratchy! - his mood plummeting. “It’s too late to tell him thank you.”

“Shh… It’s okay, Dean,” Gravelly Voice assured him. “He knew.”

“Okay,” Dean whispered, then fell silent. A few moments later, he stared around at the garden with a frown. “Did the bees come?” He’d just asked that, he was sure. Had there been an answer and he hadn’t understood it? Or had he never gotten an answer?

“Just a couple, so far. That will change when I get us a queen. Sam and Mary are going into town to pick her up. We made arrangements. Don’t you remember?”

“Hmmm….” Dean said, kneeling on the ground and checking the garden for weeds. “Gotta be perfect for him, for Cas.”

“It is, Dean, I promise you.” Gravelly Voice was soft and sad and Dean looked up to face him. He was closer than he expected and Dean was startled by what he saw.

Was this the first time he’d been close enough to see him? Dean knew his eyes weren’t as good as they once were. Wasn’t sure if they ever would be again. His hearing had come back – in bits and pieces. Here today, gone tomorrow. Who knew?

He reached up to cup the face that was so near his own, his fingers sliding against the scruff there with a rasping sound, a tingle flowing down his fingers into his arms. “Your eyes. They’re blue. They’re _his_ blue,” Dean said in astonishment. “How do you have his eyes?”

“They’re _my_ eyes, Dean,” Gravelly Voice said. His eyes were shining with many emotions, but hope and love were the only ones Dean could see. Hands gently covered Dean’s and, for a wonder, the touch didn’t send Dean into a panic. “It’s me, Dean. Cas. I’m not dead. I’m right here. I’m with you. We’re both safe and everything is over.”

Dean’s eyes filled with tears and he pulled his hands away from the face before him and wiped them away angrily. He didn’t want to lose sight of those eyes. Of Cas’s eyes. Cas was alive? But how? Dean had killed him. Dean could clearly see his hand plunging an Archangel blade into Cas and Cas couldn’t have survived that. He couldn’t have survived a normal angel blade much less an Archangel blade. It wasn’t possible.

But Cas’s Grace hadn’t flashed out of his eyes. Cas’s wings hadn’t burned to ash on the stone.

He hadn’t reacted _at all_ like an angel would. Like an angel _should._

Which meant Cas was human but...but even if he were, the wound Dean had given him would have killed him, eventually.

“No, it can’t be,” Dean whispered brokenly, the tears still falling down his face. “Cas is dead. You can’t be him…”

“I am. I promise you, it’s me. Come back to me, Dean.” A hand softly caressed his cheek, and Dean almost curled into it, realizing that the touch, and the one just before it, hadn’t made him want to scream and was, in fact, making something unfurl inside him instead. “Come back to us. We all miss you.”

“I’m… I’m right here,” Dean looked desperately into those eyes – into _Cas’s_ eyes – and prayed. _Let this be real. Don’t let it be another nightmare from Michael. Not another fake world._ “Aren’t I?”

“You are. You’re getting better every day, returning to the man we all once knew. Selfless, loyal, brave and stubborn with such hidden depths…” Cas said.

“Cas?” Dean choked.

“Yes, Dean,” Cas nodded, a hopeful smile quirking his lips, his hand still cupping Dean’s jaw, his thumb rubbing over his cheek.

“Cas!” Dean sobbed and threw himself into Cas’s arms, wrapping himself tightly around Cas in a way he’d never allowed himself before. He shook and felt hands rubbing along his back. There were murmuring sounds but Dean lost track of them other than to relax into the comforting sound that washed over him.

 _Cas. Cas was alive. Cas was_ **_alive!_ ** “You’re alive!” Dean shuddered over a sob. “You’re alive! God, Cas… I have to tell you something, before it’s too late.” Dean pulled away, just far enough to look into Cas’s eyes again, his own wide as his throat worked to get the words out. “I love you, Cas. I do, I really do. I shoulda told you a long time ago… shoulda told you when you told me. It was wrong of me to hold back like that. I may not be what you deserve, but you _deserved_ to know that you _are_ loved.”

“Trust me, Dean, it’s _I_ that doesn’t deserve _you_ but you also deserve to know that you are loved,” Cas interjected, his eyes crinkling up. “You once said you’d take me, cursed or not. You have to know, the reverse is also true. So maybe, we deserve each other. I’ll always be here, by your side, as long as you’ll have me, and even if you don’t know that I am, I will _still_ be here for you.”

“Like you’ve been since Michael took me?” Dean asked.

“Of course, Dean,” Cas said.

“How long’s it been?” Dean asked shakily, afraid to know the answer.

“Months. It’s been months,” Cas answered. “Months since he took you, and then… once you expelled him, you’ve been months in recovering.”

“What happened to you? How are you alive?” Dean breathed.

“We used the last of my Grace to corral Michael long enough to call you to the surface. Used it so we’d get more time with you than you had with me. Rowena helped, of course,” Castiel explained.

“Jesus, Cas. I just keep ruining you,” Dean said, his eyes dropping away, shame flooding him. _Michael was right, after all -_

“No, no, don’t ever think that, Dean,” Cas tilted his head back up. “I don’t regret a second of it. We’re finally in a good place.  No looming apocalypses is always a good thing and--” he took a slow breath, “and I was merely a shadow of my former self anyway. I’m a new person. I’m human and that’s – that’s what saved me. I’ve got a bit of a scar, perhaps, but you didn’t get me as badly as you think you did. Part of you held back, even though you didn’t know I was real till it was too late.”

“But Michael – he’s out there, isn’t he? Looking for a new vessel!” Dean’s mind flashed to the last couple of years, the agonizing over Lucifer doing the same thing. It wasn’t over. It would _never_ be over. They would never get peace.

“He’s actually in the cage, with _our_ Michael.” Castiel shook his head with a rueful chuckle as he explained. “Ketch pulled through for us, finding a stash from those other Men of Letters. Remember that thing we used on Lucifer? It would have worked if Crowley hadn’t interfered with it. So, we used that. Again, with Rowena’s help.”

“It’s really all over?” Dean’s eyes felt leaden, and so did his limbs and he sunk against Cas once more. Cas threaded his fingers into Dean’s hair. It was longer than he’d had it in a long time and… he found that for once, he just didn’t care. He placed his head against Cas’s shoulder and stared out at the garden. He still couldn’t see it very well, but the colors were eye catching and beautiful.

“It’s really over,” Cas whispered. “And I think, it’s time to hang up our hunters ways. I was never very good at them anyway.”

“Yeah, you were,” Dean protested.

Cas laughed and the sound of it shook and soothed Dean. “No, I wasn’t. Half of being a hunter is being a people person. I believe I once told you my people skills were rusty, and that’s still true.”

“Yeah, maybe at first, but you got better,” Dean said. “But it’s probably for the best anyway. I’m no where near 100 percent. I can’t see for shit right now and my hearing keeps going in and out on me. Who knows if any of that will ever come back?”

“I don’t know. There haven’t been all that many accounts of an Archangel vessel surviving past their use. But you’re strong, Dean. You’ve already done the impossible. You’ve already improved by leaps and bounds. We still have a long road for your recovery, but you’ve already made quite a journey. Who knows what else you’ll do in the future, but I have faith, in you.”

They were silent for a time, Dean feeling more at peace than he could remember for the first time in, well, apparently months. But he still couldn’t quite believe it and it was that niggling doubt that kept him from truly relaxing into it.

“You’re really alive? It’s really all over? Michael’s gone? No more apocalypses?” Dean whispered. He daren’t really hope, did he?

“I am,” Cas crooned into his ear. “It is and he’s gone. You can retire, we can be happy and safe, all of us.”

Dean gulped and felt a rising giddiness even as a wash of exhaustion flooded him. “Good. ‘cause I got… got us a beach vacation… to plan…” his eyes blinked slowly once, twice and closed. He started to drop off, but he could feel Cas’s lips on his hair, a murmur catching his ear.

“I’m looking forward to it, Dean.”

* * *

* * *

 

The song I was listening to was "Crazy Man Michael" which - when I looked up the lyrics - I found out was originally released in **19** **69 by Dave Swarbrick and** **Richard Thompson.** The version I have is apparently a cover from much later by Mary Ellen Wessells (aka MEW) and the lyrics are _almost_ identical.

* * *

* * *

 

CRAZY MAN MICHAEL

Within the fire and out upon the sea  
Crazy Man Michael was walking  
He met with a raven with eyes black as coals  
And shortly they were a-talking

Your future, your future I would tell to you  
Your future you often have asked me  
Your true love will die by your own right hand  
And crazy man Michael will cursèd be

Michael he ranted and Michael he raved  
And beat up the four winds with his fists-o  
He laughed and he cried, he shouted and he swore  
For his mad mind had trapped him with a kiss-o

You speak with an evil, you speak with a hate  
You speak for the devil that haunts me  
For is she not the fairest in all the broad land  
Your sorcerer's words are to taunt me

He took out his dagger of fire and of steel  
And struck down the raven through the heart-o  
The bird fluttered long and the sky it did spin  
And the cold earth did wonder and startle

O where is the raven that I struck down dead  
And here did lie on the ground-o  
I see that my true love with a wound so red  
Where her lover's heart it did pound-o  
  
Crazy Man Michael he wanders and calls  
And talks to the night and the day-o  
But his eyes they are sane and his speech it is plain|  
And he longs to be far away-o

Michael he whistles the simplest of tunes  
And asks the wild wolves their pardon  
For his true love is flown into every flower grown  
And he must be keeper of the garden

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Warning - i don't think its graphic, all that much, but there is violence in this fic. Dean hurts Cas pretty bad without him understanding whats even going on. they both get better
> 
> EDIT - added: [Rebloggable Link on Tumblr](https://pherryt.tumblr.com/post/176230842526/pherryt-keeper-of-the-garden-supernatural)  
> I've seen a few other people do this - what do you guys think? Want me to start adding them to my stories?


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